Perfectly Wrong
by Delenn
Summary: NEW: 09-27-04 “How perfect it all was. How wrong it all is. How. Perfectly. Wrong. Somehow, the sarcasm in his head doesn’t improve his mood any.” Not solely 1st person POV, switches a bit. - AM


**Disclaimer: Big shock, I don't own 'em! I'm just messing around, stealin' 'em, cause I can't even rent 'em! How sad is that? So if you still feel compelled to sue, well, you have to have like **no** life!   
  
Author's Notes: This is a short, mixed POV, angsty, sexy, heat-related, A/M ficcy, yes it is about 'heat' even if it doesn't out and out say s. Big freaking surprise, I know, more like, been done a thousand times. But this one's got better plot then the others, so THERE! J/K. So be a sport and read it anyway, okay? And then you can rant or rave to me in e-mail. Isn't that so much better then just stopping right now? I mean you already went to the trouble of clicking the link and everything!   
  
Story Notes: I've read somewhere that some of the best stories start with a singular image in the author's mind, that they spend ages trying to base and place and paint for the reader. Well, I dunno about this being a 'best' or anything like that, but it certainly started with an image. While reading "What the !$ is going on?" by Sinful Starlet, I was struck by the image of Max wrapped in a sheet, chasing after you-know-who. The rest of the story was an attempt to explain and justify that image without there being bad-guys. Any similarities other than the sheet itself to Sinful Starlet's story are unintentional, it is meant to be on its own, with inspiration from her, not off of any of her stories.   
  
Summary: "How perfect it all was. How wrong it all is. How. Perfectly. Wrong. Somehow, the sarcasm in his head doesn't improve his mood any." Not solely 1st person POV, switches a bit.   
  
Rated: R version.   
  
Thanks: H2O Lilly! Babe, haven't heard from you in a bit, but you're still my inspiration. I write in the aims of pleasing you. Plain and simple, my beta/feedback-goddess!   
  
Feedback: Love it? Hate it? Go on, you'll be my best friend! See, all you have to do is click the little link!   
  
Date Started/Finished: September 27th, 2004**

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Perfectly Wrong   
By Delenn

  
  
All he can think about is how perfect it all was. How wrong it all is. How. Perfectly. Wrong. Somehow, the sarcasm in his head doesn't improve his mood any. Of course, he realizes too late that it must all be his fault because he should have known. Known better. Known something.   
  
All he can think is that he doesn't want it to be like this. Doesn't want to see how her eyes are going to look at him, accuse him. Because the story may have started out with the wrong teacher but he learned the most important lessons. About her. About him. About them. Because as he's pulling on his coat and walking out the door he's finally come to realize that he's never wanted to leave anything less. All about her, all for her. All his fault.   
  


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_"You need to come over…" Her voice sounds scratchy, low; she sounds sick.   
  
He's not even sure if they can get sick, if she can. Has she ever been sick before? He can't remember if she's told him. "What for?" He's irritable, he has a right to be; she woke him up.   
  
Harsher, impatient in her classic fashion but fused with some greater urgency, he knows it before her words are out. "I'll tell you when you get here. Just come over. It's important."   
  
And he can't very well resist going if she needs him, never has been able to resist going even when she doesn't want him._   
  


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_"So, what's all the fuss-" as soon as he opens the door, she's on him.   
  
Pressing her body up against his, her mouth over his, and kissing him like he's been dreaming about and so much more. One hand pulls him over the threshold and into the apartment, and the other reaches behind him to shut and lock the door. He barely notices.   
  
Her lips are soft against his, her mouth hot, tongue demanding, and he thinks he's never going to let her go.   
  
Walking backwards, she's guiding him –pulling him – towards the bedroom and he can hardly even tell. Her body pressed up tight against his, arms wrapped around him, she's in charge and he doesn't care. Her skin's so warm against his, so soft and smooth, and he just can't get enough of her because she's warming him right up.   
  
His jacket has come off without breaking their kiss, but now she's getting restless and pulls up his shirt, yanking her mouth away and gasping for her breath as she yanks his shirt over his head.   
  
And for a moment, he's stunned because he remembers the last time they were in almost this position. When it was him pulling off his shirt and – this time it's him that pushes her away from where she's been nuzzling and kissing his neck.   
  
Takes a second to gather his thoughts and gather his breath, to not be swayed by the hurt and rejected look she flashes him. Shakily at first, "I don't think-" it's starting to sink in that this isn't right, isn't how they left things.   
  
Now the hurt look is gone, replaced by a fire in her eyes that heats him up more than her body as she cuts him off. "Then don't think," and before he can protest to finish his thought, she's lifted her tight black tank top over her head and tossed it aside.   
  
It isn't that hard for him to stop thinking as he takes in her golden olive body. And when she presses her body flush against his, her bare breasts against his naked chest, suddenly she's room temperature because he's on fire.   
  
She kisses him again and he thinks he'll never get enough of those lips, of the taste of her, of her just like this, squirming up against him, so powerful and so soft. It's him that reaches for the clasp of her jeans and slides them over her hips, as she lets them fall and steps out of them without breaking her stride.   
  
She reaches for his pants in turn, but his hands snake over hers and move to do it for her. He bends to slide off the jeans, leaving his boxers. Their eyes lock and she pulls away, a soft smile on her lips, turning towards the bed and climbing on it. She rolls over to her back and scoots into a reclined position, beckoning him towards her.   
  
For an entire second, his mind is quiet, and he is speechless. The sight of her lying on the bed, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, naked except for a lacey black thong that rides low on her hips and stands out boldly against her skin, is the most beautiful that he's ever seen. Because she's perfect and because it's her.   
  
Before she can question his silence, he climbs up on the bed and settles between her spread legs at the foot of the bed, her bed. Leaning over her, his weight held up by his arms, he kisses her again. She runs her hands over his back and chest, feeling the well-sculpted muscles, and he breaks away, trailing kisses down her neck in a trail to her breasts.   
  
She sighs softly, just as he did when her lips first touched his; first times deserve special reverence. Her hands trail up his back and neck, and she ruffles his hair, making it all spiky.   
  
Looking up, he can tell by the gleam in her eye that it's something she's wanted to do for a long time. He's tempted to tell her that she could have just asked, or that he really isn't fond of his hair all messed up, but he is enjoying exploring her body too much. Instead, he gives her a strong, if quick, nip.   
  
Gasping, she manages to get out anyway, "Smart – Alec…" it's hardly reprimand that's in her tone. Enjoying her reaction, he smirks. She moans.   
  
Sitting up on his haunches, hands slide down to the waist of her thong, fingers slipping between the lace and her skin, and gently sliding it off her hips. Lifting her legs, she assists him in removing the clothing. She doesn't wait for him to move back down, moving to her knees and pressing her body against his nearly naked one. A flush of heat surges through them both at the contact, and they steal a quick kiss amidst gasps as hands explore bodies.   
  
Rapidly losing her patience, her hands abandon the playful mess they've made of his hair, and she slides them down to his hips, slipping them towards his boxers. Groaning, he quickly moves to help her slip off his boxers.   
  
Gently, she leaned backwards, guiding him back down to the bed with her. Settling down between her legs, his forearms holding his weight, so as not to crush her, he spared a moment to hesitate, but she had none of it.   
  
He gasped, "Max," and he knew, slowly pressing himself deeper into her.   
  
She moaned, "Alec," and realization flashed through her short-circuited brain.   
  
As he their bodies met, they both cried out with certainty, "Mine," and she pulled him down for a kiss, neither quite knowing where it had come from.   
  
Eyes locking at how right this felt… like being… home. She moved to twine her fingers through his against the sheets. Bodies letting loose, as minds met in understanding, Fingers clenched tightly together, bed rocking and creaking under their combined strength.   
  
As they cried out their release, twin thoughts echoed through different minds, 'I love you…'   
  
Bodies giving out, he sunk down, crushing her body with his larger one. For a moment, the only sounds were that of the two trying to catch their breath. He went to roll off of her, and she tightened her grip on him, welcoming his weight pressed against her, his chest crushing her breasts, with the knowledge that she wouldn't break.   
  
Both covered with slick sweat, he finally moved to sit up, and she stretched contentedly. Looking between them both, twin eyebrows raised and he smirked, "Ready for another round?" And they met in the middle of the bed for another set of searing kisses._   
  


------

  
  
When she first rolled over and felt the empty side of the bed, it took her a moment to realize why this occurrence felt so wrong. Only a second, and then all the memories returned, and she realized that an empty bed was exactly not how her bed should be this overly cloudy morning.   
  
It only took another fraction of a second to recognize that the reason she had woken was from the noise of a door shutting. Panic seized her throat, and Max leapt out of bed, haphazardly pulling the sheet she'd finally managed to get under up and around her bare body.   
  
Dashing out the door, she didn't spare time to think about why it was so important that he be with her this morning, where nobody else had. All she knew was that it was important, it was deathly important that he understand now, not later, and she was finally learning to trust her first instincts, so she ran.   
  
Having a good head start on her, he was out of the building and walking across the nearly deserted street before she caught him. "Alec!"   
  
He turned. There she was, standing on the cracked sidewalk, barefoot, her black hair falling messily over her shoulders, chocolate eyes wide, and wearing only a sheet wrapped around her torso, that she held tightly with one arm. For a full moment, he was convinced that she was an angel.   
  
"Max… What? I – I didn't want to wake you…" he tore his gaze down, still convinced of his fault for the night before.   
  
If people were staring, neither transgenic noticed. She took another step forward, gently edging closer to him, and beckoned him back to her. "Alec, come here." It was the softness in her voice more than the command that moved him back to her.   
  
She waited until Alec was standing right in front of her, his brow still creased in that innocent way it did when he was confused and blaming himself. Waited for him to say what he had to, "You were… and I…"   
  
Shaking her head firmly, Max set her free hand on his arm. "You were here because I asked you to be. I asked you," she wanted to make sure he understood, "I asked you to come over because I wanted you to be here, not because of anything else."   
  
Looking first at the hand on his arm, and then into her eyes, Alec ducked his head once more. "I'm not sorry," he looked up cautiously, continuing only once he realized she didn't look angry, "that's why I didn't want to be there when you woke up. Get some time to work up to an apology, you know?"   
  
Punching him lightly on the arm, Max rolled her eyes, "I'm not sorry either," she smirked at his startled expression. "And it didn't once occur to you that maybe when I invited you over, the plan was not to go chasing after you, half naked, in the middle of the morning, but rather to wake up with you?"   
  
Catching her meaning behind the teasing, and rolling his eyes right back at her for punching him, Alec grinned. "Well, first: I think there's still time to start the morning over, and second: I think you chasing after me in a sheet should definitely stay in the plan. Especially if," he seemed to have finally noticed the few people watching them, "someone gets a picture for me."   
  
Looking properly embarrassed, Max pulled him back towards the inside of her apartment building, hissing quietly, "Maybe if you're a good boy, and don't ever run off before I wake up again, there'll be an even better surprise."   
  
"Aww, Maxie, you should've."   
  


The End


End file.
